Sanctuary
by wooster182
Summary: This is an AngelCordy fic. It starts 80 years after the series' finale. Angel is alone and desperate and there is a new Slayer he's about to meet.
1. Old Pictures and Older Dreams

Every time I think of you,

I always catch my breath.

And I'm standing here,

And you're miles away,

And I'm wondering

why you left.

And there's a storm that's raging

through this frozen heart tonight.

--Missing You

Chapter 1

The Slayer ran through the cemetery. After all of these years, she could feel her heart pound during a hunt, still felt the release when she staked a vamp and dust fell around her hand.

She pumped her legs faster. She knew this cemetery better than some of the rooms in her own home. She was forcing the vampire into a dead end.

He finally stopped when he saw the wall. Turning, he hunched into a fighting stance as she caught up to him. "You're dead, Slayer," he growled.

"I think you'll find that by the end of this, you'll be _deader_," she said with a cocky smile.

He lunged at her and she used his momentum to grab him by the shoulder and shove him hard to the ground. While he was still on the ground, she kicked him in the kidney and then dug her heel deep into his back.

He twisted far enough to grab her leg and push her upward, making her lose her balance. She hit her head when she fell. He leapt on top of her, pinning her hands behind her head. "Who's deader now, Slayer?"

She head butted him and then rolled her hips to make him tumble head-first over her. "Still you, dumb ass."

She picked her stake off the ground and gripped it tight. "Let's make this quick, okay, pal? I've got places to be." She spun into a roundhouse kick and grabbed the front of his jacket as he stumbled backward. "This is you dying. Enjoy your after-life." She furrowed her brow as she rammed the stake into his heart. "Well, your second after-life, I guess."

She turned around as the vampire turned to dust. Her cell phone started to ring. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" the voice on the other line asked. "We start in 20 minutes."

"I'll be there," she said, walking to her car. "Have I ever been late before?"

………………………………

The Slayer walked fifteen minutes later into the classroom. She walked up to the woman who had called her, Tina, a short blonde with a big, toothy smile.

"Didn't I tell you I'd be here?" She softly elbowed her as she took her book from her backpack and put it on the desk. Her soft brown hair wisped around her shoulders as she turned to her friend and said, "The midterm is next week. You ready?"

Tina cocked her eyebrow. "Are you asking me if I'm ready for the midterm on statistics? Do you want to calculate the odds of me failing it?"

Cagney Carter smiled. She could have died tonight and not even her best friend had a clue as to who she really was. Passing a statistics course at UCLA was the least of her stressful activities. "Well, lets just get through this boring-ass class tonight and then we'll worry about next week."

Tina waved her hands. "Sounds good to me. If you can keep me awake, there's a pizza box with your name on it."

Cagney raised an eyebrow. "If it's pepperoni and onion, you've got a deal." The 22 year old junior majoring in psychology took out her laptop to take notes.

She had no idea what was coming.

…………………………………

Angel rolled over, opening his eyes. He stared at the dark, paneled wall. Glancing at the clock that was blaring, he saw that it was 6:32. _Sunset_. He reached over and shut off the alarm.

He laid there naked in the small, one room apartment. Sighing, he thought about all of the things he needed to do.

Which was absolutely nothing.

It had been eighty years since he had tried to take down Wolfram and Hart. He, Spike, and Illyria were the only to survive. They had gone their separate ways a few weeks later, once they had healed enough to move.

He saw Spike from time to time as he drifted from one state to the next. He had met a few acquaintances over the last eighty years, but those friendships never lasted long and were not close. He never again got close to anyone as he had Doyle, Fred, Wes, Gunn, and…Cordelia.

His son had lived happily, got married, and died about twenty years ago. Angel now had two grandchildren, a boy and girl, but he had never met them. And he never would.

He had kept track of Buffy over the years but she never did stop baking. She finally gave Xander Harris what he had dreamt about for years: they dated for several years and then got married. They had three children who were all older now and had grown up fairly well-adjusted and normal.

Buffy died thirty-two years ago and was buried as close to her mother as possible. Xander died a few months later and was now resting next to his wife.

But as he got up to take a shower, Buffy was not the person on his mind. Finding out seventy years ago that she had gotten married—to Xander Harris of all people—cemented what he had known for some time but had never really accepted: he and Buffy were over. It had almost been a century now since he had been in love with Buffy Summers.

As the water rushed over him, he closed his eyes groggily. He was bored stiff. He had no relationships. No friendships. The only thing that connected him to the world was the visions Cordelia had given him. Because he was the only one left, there was no Angel Investigations. It was just him, going out each night, stalking the demons of St. Augustine, Florida, which seemed to be crawling with the evil beings. He was out every night as he had been before he had met Doyle.

If Doyle were there, he would tell him that it wasn't healthy. That he needed people. That he was going to become dangerous if he didn't start interacting with things with pulses.

He didn't care. He wasn't going to meet new people and he sure as hell didn't want to.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around him and headed for the chest of drawers next to his bed. His apartment had old sketches and paintings, but the one picture he had setting out was on this chest of drawers.

As he did every evening when he got up, he stared at this photo, his hand squeezing the towel around his waist. It was of him, Wesley, and Cordelia.

But of the three people in the photograph, he only stared at one. Only _thought_ of one for several minutes until his heart ached so badly that he had to get dressed, putting his stake mechanisms around his wrists and picking up his broad sword. He bolted out the door without looking at the person in the picture again.

Cordelia.

After eighty years, Cordelia Chase was the woman he couldn't stop thinking about. He had finally let Buffy go, but Cordy was still in his heart. He couldn't shake her. After all of this time, he still needed her. He could hear her voice, the lilt it had when she got excited or was joking. He missed her calm and reasoning, her bounce as she walked, the elegant way she moved when she fought. She was the one woman that guided him instead of made him crazy. She expected him to do better, to be better, to keep fighting. She had been his rock and she was gone.

He had failed her. When he couldn't stop her from becoming a higher being, he didn't save her. That night when they were supposed to have met and didn't, that sealed their fates and he couldn't stop it.

Even now, the days leading up to that moment when Connor sunk him to the bottom of the ocean and Cordy had ascended to the higher planes—those days, every moment haunted him. Almost every day, he tried to come up with ways that could have prevented it, could have stopped both of them.

But he couldn't change it.

And he couldn't have Cordelia.

As he walked to his car, he gripped his sword tighter.

He needed to kill something.

TBC


	2. Sleepless Nights

Hi, everyone! I'm so sorry that this took me this long and that it isn't longer. But I'm trying to set up later chapters and this one was difficult to write. So, I hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Thanks…

Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Angel felt the bitterness in his bones even worse than before. He tried to ignore it, but it was fermenting into anger. He was depressed, pissed off, and had every intention of ignoring it.

He had gotten a vision that there were demons in the old fort. He was now there, standing in front of the stone wall. He leapt over it, his sword in hand. He heard gargling noises and ran towards the sounds. Inside the mission, he found four large demons in robes with a teenage girl lying strapped to a table.

Angel rolled his eyes and said, "What is it with you religious types? Can't you just light a candle or something? Why does it always have to be sacrificing a virgin?"

The demons ran towards him. With one swing, he decapitated one and then used the momentum to spin and kick another in the gut. One hit him in the face and a claw scraped his cheek. Grunting in pain, he ducked down and slid his leg to knock the demon off balance. He jumped back up and punched it in the gut and then head butted it. It fell to the ground. He stomped it hard in the face with his boot and then stabbed it in the stomach.

"Two more to go, boys," Angel said, sounding almost amused.

The demons looked at him, then at each other, and turned around and ran the other way. Angel sighed and went over to the crying girl. Without saying anything, he took a knife that was strapped to his leg and cut the ropes around her feet and hands.

"Thank you," she wept. Blood and sweat made her hair stick to her head.

He tried not to stare at the open cut on her forehead. "Just go home," he said, turning away from her. "Try not to get kidnapped again."

She ran from the mission still crying.

He stood in the room, trying to forget the smell of her blood. The demon he had stabbed in the stomach started to stir. Angel lifted his sword and smiled. As it struggled to sit up, he kicked it back down. He took a swing and sliced its chest. The demon's arms flailed as it tried to get up and away from him. He kept hacking at it as green blood spurted from its body. After the demon was dead for several minutes, Angel was still slicing and stabbing and kicking it.

"I think you killed him, mate."

House turned towards the voice. "Haven't you noticed that I get tired of you following me around for an eternity, Spike?"

Spike cocked his head to the side. "Trust me. I'm not here willingly."

Angel walked past him and out the door. "Then leave."

He followed him. "Can't do that, Captain Broods-A-Lot."

"Why the hell not?"

"The Powers That Be seem to think you need a guide."

Angel stopped, slightly jabbing the sword at the air and gritting his teeth. "Were they high?"

Spike thought about the question legitimately and inquisitively. "Dunno. Can higher powers _get _high?"

Rolling his eyes, he said, "I don't need a guide. And I sure as hell don't need you."

Spike shook his head. "The PTB don't see it that way, friend."

Angel put his hands out defensively. "I'm doing fine here. I'm saving people. I kill demons nightly."

He cracked a smile. "I saw that. You keep swinging _after _they're dead, too."

Angel looked down, mumbling, "I was just a little…tense."

He raised his eyebrows. "A little tense? Man, look at you. You're ready to pop. I've seen that crazed look, that itching under the surface. We've both been there and you're ready to fall off the edge."

"Just go away, Spike." He said and started walking towards his car.

"Would she be happy," Spike called out, "if she thought her death had been wasted?"

He kept walking. "Don't you ever get tired of throwing Buffy up in my face?"

"I'm not talking about Buffy, dumb ass. There's only one woman that made you a champion—as much as I hate to admit it."

"Cordelia," he whispered.

"That's why I'm here. I got a dream a couple nights back. Of Cordelia watching you die."

Angel got into his car. "That's it? That dream made you come all the way down to Florida to annoy me?"

Spike shook his head and jumped into the passenger side despite Angel's groans. "Nope. Then this Irish bloke with black hair and bad taste in clothes told me that you needed to _see_. That you weren't game anymore. Whatever the hell that means."

_Doyle_, he thought. "I'm the one that gets visions. Why wouldn't the Powers send me the message?"

Spike took a flask from his jacket pocket and took a swig. "Maybe you aren't listening anymore."

Angel rolled his eyes. "So what are we supposed to do?"

He winced. "I'm not really sure."

Angel blinked. "That's just great."

……………………………………

Cagney awoke with a start. It was the third nightmare she had had in five nights. Well, it wasn't really a nightmare. She was pretty sure it was another Slayer dream.

Just like any other Slayer, she sometimes dreamt of past Chosen Ones and every once in a while had a dream about the future. Considering the hairstyles and clothing, she figured these dreams were about the past.

In these dreams, she was always a woman that looked about her own age and could very easily be her sister—they looked so much alike. The woman had dark hair to her shoulders and a round, pretty face. She was fighting demons with two tall men. And she suffered through boils, burns, and scratches.

But this last dream was all together different. It was the reason why she had woken up.

"_I want you to undress me."_

_The man was beautiful. And looked terrified. "You what?"_

_She slid her hands down her side and stomach, tilting her head, pleading. "It's only a costume. I want you to see who I really am. You're the only one who can."_

_The man came closer to her. "Is that what you really want?"_

_She couldn't breathe. "Yes."_

_His face was close to hers and she could see his dark brown eyes staring deep into hers. "Do you want me to make love to you now? Here?"_

_Her hands rose up to his shoulders. "Please."_

_He kissed her. Passionately. Recklessly. Lovingly. _

_Her lips brushed against his as she whispered, "I'm only alive when you're inside me."_

That was when Cagney woke up. She looked over at the clock. It was 2:00 in the morning. "Damn." She blinked tiredly as she looked back up at the ceiling. She had an exam in the morning and she needed sleep.

After that dream, she also needed a cold shower.

TBC


	3. Visions

Thanks for all of the reviews and nice words! I'm sorry that it took me a while to update, but I wasn't sure how I wanted to write this chapter. So I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think. Again, thanks for checking this story out!

Chapter 3

"So how are you going to help me?" Angel said doubtfully as he went into his kitchen.

Spike followed him and lifted himself up so that he was sitting on the counter. "I don't rightly know. I guess the first step is to make you friendly with the people again."

Angel opened the refrigerator and took out a pint of blood. He poured it in two cup and then put the cups in the microwave. "_You're _going to teach me to be friendly."

Spike's chest puffed up defensively. "I'll have you know, mate, that people find me charming."

Angel muttered, "People think you're an ass."

He pointed his finger at Angel. "This is coming from the man that yelled at the damsel in distress tonight."

Deciding it wasn't worth it, Angel handed him one cup and took the other. "How am I going to change that then?"

Spike took a drink from his cup. "Well, I'd normally say that you need to get laid, but that isn't a good idea."

Angel turned away. "This is hopeless."

Spike took out a cigarette and lit it. With it in his lips, he mumbled, "Hey, I'd rather be back in New York trying to get models to sleep with me. You say the word, my friend, and I'm gone."

Angel gritted his teeth and looked up as if through the ceiling. "What do you want from me?" he asked the Powers. _What more can you take? _he thought but did not say in front of Spike.

He keeled over in pain as visions shot through his mind.

Spike looking bored took another drink from his cup. "Guess you got your answer from Dear Abby."

"Good to see that your ability to be a smart ass hasn't waned after your bicentennial." Angel rubbed his head.

Spike clapped his hands and jumped off the counter. "So, who are we saving?"

Angel looked at him wearily. "I think we're going to LA. I have to go across the continent with you."

Spike looked excited. "All planes have vampire-safe windows now. We can sneak into the airport through the sewer system and we can get a flight that ends at night."

"Don't you have all the plans," Angel mumbled.

"What are we going to be doing exactly?"

Angel shook his head and headed for his jacket by the door. "I don't know exactly. I just saw some guy get attacked by demons. It looked like a stadium."

Spike followed him out of the apartment. "You're giving me your little bottles of airplane liquor. You shouldn't save while intoxicated."

Angel rolled his eyes. "You are so in danger of me killing your ass before we get there."

……………………………

Cagney needed to kill something. Her dreams were really starting to piss her off. She had tests to study for and she kept waking up because of the stupid dreams.

The last couple hadn't been too bad, though, if she had to admit it to herself. She was still the same woman in both of them and the same tall, dark man was there as well. They would kiss each other and fight side by side. There was a closeness between these two people and Cagney could feel it as though she was this woman. But there was always this maudlin feeling, tinges of sadness and repression.

She wondered why she kept having these dreams. She knew that it usually was a sign of something to come, but these dreams were in the past.

Walking through the campus, she was listening hard for sounds of vampires feeding. They usually circulated on Friday nights in hopes of drunken coeds. She laughed, thinking that vampires weren't that different from fraternity guys.

As she went through a dark patch of the sidewalk, she heard menacing laugher behind her. She smiled. _Finally_. Slipping the stake out of her purse, she gripped it tight in her hand. _C'mon_.

"You shouldn't be by yourself this late at night," the male voice said. "You should let me walk you home."

She kept walking, her body tingling with anticipation. "I think I'll be alright."

He whistled and continued to walk behind her. "You _look_ alright, girl. Is your front view as good as the back?"

She licked her lips and locked her jaw. "Doesn't matter, pal. You won't be seeing too much of it."

"Now that would be a shame." He walked faster to catch up to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

Instinctively, she reached behind her, grabbed his forearm and used his momentum to throw him over her shoulder. He hit the sidewalk hard and with a grunt. She bent down in a fluid motion over him and put the stake to his heart. "This is the only wood I'm feeling tonight, buddy."

His eyes bulged and he squirmed beneath her. "What's wrong with you, you crazy bitch!"

She looked at him closer. To be sure, she put her hand on his chest. She felt a pulse. _Damn it_. "Me? What the hell is wrong with you? Grow some balls, be a man, and stop stalking girls at night."

He scrambled to his feet and started running.

She shrugged disappointedly. She was glad to have stopped a jerk for the night but it wasn't the kind of release she had been hoping for. Deciding to head home, she walked back to her car.

About half an hour later, she drove up to the two story brick home in the suburbs. She still lived with her parents. Amazingly enough, they had never discovered that she was a Slayer. She had trained in LA in high school and had been able to tell them that she was going to an after school tutoring service to volunteer. They had bought it for three years. Now that she was attending college, they never asked her where she was going or where she had been.

Walking through the front door, she saw that the light was still on in the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the table, grading papers. Dana Carter taught at the prep school Cagney had attended during high school.

"Isn't this a little late for you, Mom? You're usually passed out by 9:00," she said, going over to the refrigerator and getting a glass of milk.

Her mother laughed over a yawn. "I'm waiting up for your father, CC. He was going to go to a basketball game on campus but he should be home now."

Paul Carter was a teacher at the prep school as well and often attended sports events for the school. Cagney looked up at the clock. It was almost midnight. "He probably got into another debate with Dean Winters over global warming. He should be home soon."

Cagney put her hand on her mother's shoulder, told her goodnight and headed up for her bedroom. She took a shower, letting the water beat her tired muscles. She wasn't looking forward to going to sleep because she knew that she would wake up and still feel exhausted.

She put on an oversized t-shirt and snuggled into her bundle of sheets and blankets. About five hours later, she woke with a start as her mother pushed her and called her name.

"Wake up, CC. Get up," Dana cried.

Reflexively, Cagney sat up wide awake. "What's wrong?"

Her face was stained with tears and more tears were imminent. "Your father never came home. The police called and said he left his car in the school parking lot. The doors were open and the windshield had been busted out."

She jumped out of bed and put clothes on. "What? He's just gone?"

Her mother wiped her eyes. "We need to go to the police station and file a missing person's report and answer some questions."

Cagney nodded. "Let's go."

TBC


	4. First Meeting

Chapter 4

Cagney went with her mother to the police station. They then went back home and cooked a breakfast that neither could eat. She stared at homework that she couldn't concentrate on.

As soon as night fell, she headed for the impound where her father's car had been taken. In one fluid motion, she jumped the chain link fence and headed towards the office. Looking through the files, she found what part of the yard her father's car was in. She ran quickly towards the car. The closer she got, she could hear voices. Ducking down, she hid behind a car and crept closer. She could not see their faces in the dark from this distance, but she could distinctively hear what sounded like bickering.

"Do you see anything?"

"I can see that the car has clearly been vandalized, genius."

"I meant besides the obvious, you ponce."

"Well, I can smell that demons have been around this car."

"Why would they take this fellow? Didn't the newspaper say he was a teacher?"

"He apparently was in some extracurricular activities."

At this, she rolled from the car and jumped up, stake in her hand. "Either one of you want to tell me who the hell you are and why the hell you're here?"

Spike cocked his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side with his trademark smile. "It's not to get staked by you, love."

"We're here to help," Angel said. "Now who are you?"

She came closer, grabbing the stake tighter. "The car you're poking around belongs to my father. Do you know where he is?"

Spike scoffed. "If we knew where he was, we wouldn't be sniffing around a bloody car."

Her heart nearly stopped. "There's blood on the car?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah. Who was your father? Is he a witch? Demon?"

"No!" she nearly shrieked. "He teaches advanced sociology at a prep school. He could be awarded Nerd of the Year. Annually."

"Okay, so what about you?

"What about me?"

Angel started to roll his eyes. "Who are you?"

She looked at him dead-pan. "Mary Freakin' Poppins. Nice to meet you."

Angel started to get frustrated. "Look, we're trying to help. It would be a lot easier if you cooperated."

"My name is Cagney. I'm a Slayer."

"Who isn't these days?" Spike said on a grumble.

"That may be the case," Cagney said. "But it still means that I can kick your ass."

She stepped closer again and as she came from behind the shadow of a large truck, the moon finally shown on her face. Angel's body jerked as he saw her. If he would have had breath, it would have left his body. She looked so much like—

"My sainted aunt," Spike exclaimed. "Angel, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Angel stubbornly shook his head. "I don't care what you're seeing, Spike. We don't have time for it."

Spike pointed at Cagney. "But, mate, the girl looks just like—"

"She looks like no one."

Spike laughed. "You're bloody well lying. The bird could be her twin."

Angel growled. "Spike. Knock it off."

For once, Spike obeyed but Cagney was now interested. "What are you talking about?"

Angel waved his hand. "Nothing. Spike and I've known a lot of people. You just happen to look a little like one of them."

"_A little_ my pale ass," Spike mumbled. Changing the subject, he said, "As the idiot in front of you just alluded to, my name is Spike. His is Angel. We are at your service."

It was her turn for her mouth to drop. "You two chuckleheads are Spike and Angel? Why shouldn't I be putting my handy stake through your hearts right about now?"

Angel blinked. "Because we have souls."

She raised her eyebrows. "You've managed to keep them?"

Spike raised his hands. "I'm not the one that loses my soul when I shag a beauty." He leaned closer and deepened his voice as he said, "You are quite the looker by the way."

"Spike, don't start," Angel said.

Spike straightened up again. "Don't worry, mate. There's only been one kick ass little betty that I've stolen away from you."

Cagney's face scrunched in disbelief and confusion. "I've known you both for fifteen minutes. As if."

Spike chuckled. "You know it's her."

Angel ignored the comment. "Cagney, I think we can track where the demons are if we start from where he was taken. Can you take us there?"

She put her stake back in her bag. "Sure. But if either of you do something that remotely makes me grumpy, you'll both be dust."

Spike walked past her with a smirk. "Fair enough."

TBC


End file.
